


The Proposition

by toushindai (WallofIllusion)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Oral Sex, Sensory Deprivation, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/toushindai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Maiza's nerves are frayed, Ronny has an... interesting suggestion for how to relieve his anxiety. Set immediately after the 1927 arc of the Fujimoto manga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> the summary is so coy and the tags are so blatant...... such is life on AO3. I've never really gotten the hang of the tags here but anyway, I love Ronny and Maiza, enjoy

Maiza’s investigation of the church turned up nothing, and when he returned to the Alveare, his distraction was apparent enough that even Pezzo commented on it. When the end of the day came, he said his goodbyes and headed out; and then his mind immediately locked on to the subject of the Phantom Father once more. The healing power Firo had described was too similar to his own to be coincidence, and where immortality was found, it seemed prudent to assume that Szilard would follow.

If he were to leave the Martillo Family, it wouldn’t be the first time he left a life behind in order to escape Szilard’s pursuit. But no matter how many times he concluded that that would be the safest course of action by far, he couldn’t imagine himself actually doing it.

Not without a sting of pain in his heart, at least.

But as he unlocked the front door of the building and made his way up the stairs, he sighed. It was only a matter of time before circumstances forced him to move on anyway, and his failure of imagination wouldn’t last. His time with the Martillos was, in all likelihood, drawing to a close.

…More pressingly, a sudden footstep creaked on the third floor. In an instant, Maiza’s knife found its way into his left hand, leaving his right hand free and ready. He silenced his movements as much as he could and started up the stairs—

“It’s me, Maiza.”

Maiza sighed in enormous relief and slid the knife back into its sheath. “You scared the hell out of me, Ronny,” he said as his friend came into view at the top of the stairs.

Ronny shot him a rueful smile. “I apologize,” he said. “Maybe I should have waited for you outside.”

“You mean rather than forcing me to wonder why someone was lying in wait in my apartment?” Maiza asked pointedly. He unlocked his front door and gestured for Ronny to follow him inside. “And on that note, I seem to remember that you were still at the shop when I left.”

“Is that so? Well, no matter.”

“No, I think that matters,” Maiza retorted, but his tone was light. He hung his hat and coat by the door and Ronny followed suit. “Did you need something?”

“You’re being unusually coy, Maiza.”

Raising his eyebrows as he sank into his couch, Maiza asked, “ _I_ am?”

“You are.” Ronny settled into the couch next to him, one foot up on the coffee table. “Do you have no intention of asking me about the Phantom Father? You know it would be easy for me to answer.”

“You speak as though you want to be asked,” Maiza observed.

“I don’t mind being consulted once in a while. But no matter. If you’re enjoying the suspense, far be it from me to spoil that.”

“I’m not enjoying it at all.” Maiza leaned back and covered his face with his hand, his stomach turning uncomfortably. But with his eyes closed, it was far too easy to picture Szilard appearing at the Alveare, plowing through everyone Maiza cared about to get to him. He shuddered involuntarily and spoke. “Am I putting the Family in danger, Ronny?”

“No,” the demon answered quietly, and Maiza could have melted with relief. “Regardless of whether the Phantom Father is connected to Szilard—I’ll leave that to your imagination for now—Szilard hasn’t caught wind of you. So don’t go running off just yet. I doubt Don Maritllo takes kindly to having his capos go missing.”

“No, I suspect he doesn’t.”

For a few moments, Maiza was intently aware of his own breathing as his heart began to calm. He hadn’t realized just how frightened he’d been until Ronny forced him to voice his fear. Finally he uncovered his face and looked at his friend.

“Was that your point?” he asked. “Just to make me ask that question?”

Ronny shrugged as if he had no idea what Maiza was talking about. “I didn’t want you to stew in your own head unnecessarily,” he answered.

“Awfully compassionate for a demon.”

“Maybe I prefer having my knowledge used over being ignored.”

“Ah, yes, that must be it,” Maiza said, not fooled.

He sighed and let his eyes slip closed again, his head tilted backwards. He didn’t bother to open his eyes when the sound of shifting fabric and the movement of the couch indicated that Ronny had moved closer to him.

“Hm?”

“You need to relax more, Maiza.”

At that, Maiza did open his eyes; Ronny was peering back at him, his gaze analytical.

“Why do you say that, all of a sudden?” Maiza asked him.

“You’re tired,” Ronny answered plainly.

“No more so than usual.” But Ronny raised a skeptical eyebrow to that, and he corrected himself. “Well, slightly more so than usual, I suppose. But I’m fine, Ronny. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“And does it occur to you that you don’t need to be exhausted all the time?”

Maiza shook his head, baffled. “Why this sudden line of questioning, Ronny? It’s quite peculiar.”

“Am I not allowed to express my concern for a friend? …Well, no matter.” Ronny ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes never leaving Maiza. “The truth is, I have a suggestion that I think might relax you.”

He stretched out his arm across the back of the couch, which had the additional effect of just about wrapping it around Maiza’s shoulders. Maiza raised one puzzled eyebrow, and Ronny met his gaze easily, not withdrawing. Maiza tilted his head.

“Ronny, if I didn’t know any better, I might suspect that you were trying to proposition me.”

“Oh? And why do you think you know better?”

Ronny’s other hand settled on Maiza’s knee, his touch light but undeniable and warm. He was close enough that Maiza could smell tobacco and honey on his breath.

“… _Are_ you propositioning me?”

Ronny responded with a suggestive smirk.

“For _sex_?”

Rather than answer that, Ronny leaned in close. He hesitated for a split second, as if giving Maiza the chance to pull away; but Maiza didn’t pull away. Their lips met, and Ronny’s hand left Maiza’s knee to rest on his neck instead.

The kiss was tender and gentle. And certainly not unpleasant.

When Ronny leaned back again, Maiza confirmed, “You’re propositioning me. For sex.”

“I’m flirting, at least. From there, we’ll see where the moment takes us.” Ronny traced his thumb over Maiza’s cheekbone, his touch surprisingly delicate. There was a hint of his usual detached amusement in his face, and there was something else, too. Intrigue, maybe? Or was it just affection?

Whatever it was, it made Maiza want to lift his own hand to Ronny’s face, but he resisted the urge.

“You aren’t human,” he pointed out.

“That’s true. But are _you_?”

A fair point. Maiza hadn’t considered himself human for over two hundred years now.

There was a pause, and then Ronny leaned back, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “If you’re uncomfortable with the thought—”

“I’m not uncomfortable, Ronny.” Maiza gave a wry smile. “This is all just very sudden. What brought this on?”

“I told you, you need to relax,” Ronny said, his voice sardonic. Then his eyes grew serious. “I care about you, Maiza. I know that telling you not to worry about the Phantom Father isn’t going to assuage your fears entirely. So I want to do more to help rather than watch you suffer in silence.”

“And your first instinct as to how to do that was to flirt with me?”

“Maybe not my first. But it certainly struck me as an enjoyable way to do so. Sex can be quite distracting, as I’m sure you know.”

Maiza gave his head a slight shake, lips quirking in embarrassment. “Actually, I don’t know that firsthand. I haven’t before, you know,” he confessed.

“What, with a man?”

“With _anyone_.”

That managed to startle Ronny into silence. Maiza raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been at my side since I became immortal. You know I haven’t courted anyone.”

“I thought surely in Lotto Valentino…”

“I was busy studying alchemy.”

“But before that? I can’t believe that the Rotten Eggs had any qualms about buying sex.”

“Maybe so, but I never had any interest.”

Ronny eyed him for a moment more, then shook his head in apparently genuine amazement. “Maiza, you must have been the strangest delinquent this world has ever known. …Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Tell me I didn’t just spring your first kiss on you.”

At the way his friend’s face paled, Maiza almost had to bite back a chuckle. “I could say that, but why bother lying to an omniscient being?”

Ronny ducked his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. And—

Maiza leaned in for a closer look. “Are you _blushing_?”

“I’m n—” Ronny cut off what was clearly an attempt to deny it when he only managed to flush deeper. “All right, yes, I am. Listen, Maiza, if you need me to apologize, I apologize.”

“I don’t need you to apologize.” He patted Ronny’s shoulder, amused and affectionate; then, rethinking that, he slid his hand around to the opposite shoulder much as Ronny had a few minutes ago. The way their bodies fit together was comfortable. “You know, I’ve never seen you so embarrassed before.”

“I’ve rarely _been_ so embarrassed.” Ronny shook his head and gave another sigh. “Well, no matter. I certainly don’t mean to get you in over your head. If you have no interest—”

“Ronny.” Maiza leaned in, lips brushing against Ronny’s cheek hesitantly. “I haven’t said that I’m not interested.”

“You’ve not said that you are, either,” Ronny pointed out.

Maiza let one hand come to rest on Ronny’s collar. “I’m interested,” he said, with the gravitas of a man committing to an impulsive decision. “By which I mean that I’m intrigued and curious. As long as you understand that I don’t know what I’m doing and you’re willing to lead, then let’s see ‘where the moment takes us.’”

“Hm.”

For a split second, there was a change in Ronny’s face; it was keen and eager and almost worth calling “demonic.” In the next moment, Ronny had him by the tie and their lips were pressed together, hard. Maiza barely had the chance to catch his breath before he found himself kissing back, grasping the front of Ronny’s shirt. A noise emerged from the back of his throat, a noise that meant _keep doing that_.

When Ronny finally pulled back, Maiza missed the physical contact immediately. But there was amusement in Ronny’s face, amusement that felt like a spotlight with its beam focused squarely on Maiza, and that wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” Ronny commented.

“Thank you?” Maiza raised one eyebrow. “You know, you give very strange compliments sometimes, Ronny.”

“Was that one not to your satisfaction? Well, no matter. How’s this one, then?” Ronny hooked his finger into the knot of Maiza’s tie and loosened it. “You make me want more.”

“That’s not a compliment,” Maiza said, not stopping him. “That’s just a statement, and a rather greedy one, at that.”

Ronny rolled his eyes. “At least I’m not making demands about what a proper compliment sounds like. Just what is it you want to hear, Maiza?”

Maiza slid a hand around the back of Ronny’s neck and pulled him closer. “Perhaps I don’t want you to talk at all.”

“Ah.”

Maiza saw Ronny’s lips quirk upwards for a brief moment before they met his in another kiss. Once Ronny had Maiza’s tie completely undone and was starting on his shirt buttons, Maiza moved to reciprocate the favor—but found Ronny’s shirt unbuttoned already. He pulled back to confirm with his eyes what his hands had found.

“When did you…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ronny responded, smirking. But Maiza only narrowed his eyes. Ronny’s shirt had been buttoned and his tie properly done up when he’d started loosening Maiza’s tie, and his hands had been on Maiza since then. He should have had no chance to take care of his own shirt.

“Ronny?”

“I’m not human, remember?” the demon said. He slipped a hand around the back of Maiza’s neck and toyed with the hair at his nape. “That’s nothing compared to what I _could_ do.”

Maiza gave a smile that had more than a little wince in it. “I get the sense that that sentence could have a very dirty meaning, but honestly, I can’t parse what you’re suggesting.”

Ronny’s face shifted and his eyes narrowed. “You’re uncomfortable.”

“No—” Maiza reconsidered his protest. “Well, yes. Can we slow down a little?”

“Certainly.” Ronny shifted so that they weren’t pressed so closely together. “If you don’t want to continue…”

“That isn’t what I said, Ronny.” Maiza traced the line of Ronny’s neck down to his collarbone and was inordinately pleased to see the demon catch his breath in response. “This is all just very new to me, and if you could stick to what a human’s capable of, I’d be much more at ease. Or at least give me a little warning.”

“Hmph. And after we established that neither one of us is human, too.” But there was no resentment in his voice. “Well, no matter. Shall I rebutton my shirt? With my hands, that is.”

“You shall not.” Maiza let his hands settle on the edges of Ronny’s shirt and dared to slide it down Ronny’s shoulders. Ronny made a hum of approval.

“I see we’re not slowing down _much_ ,” he remarked.

“Just enough that I can follow it.”

“Ahh, is that the point. You know, the element of surprise can make this whole business a little more… _exciting_.”

Maiza gave a wry smile that didn’t last. “I’ve had enough of surprises and excitement today, honestly.”

“…And now you’re thinking about Szilard again.”

He was; his mind was back on the Phantom Father and the fear that Szilard might catch up to him at any time. “I think about Szilard a lot.”

Ronny put his hand on Maiza’s neck, not quite smiling. His eyes were intent. “I’ll be honest, Maiza. There’s nothing I want more right now than to get your mind off of that old man.”

“That’s quite a task you’ve set for yourself.”

“I think I’m up to the challenge, if you’ll let me try.”

Maiza leaned in again. “Be my guest,” he said, sincerely.

But Ronny didn’t immediately move in to kiss him. “I have an idea, Maiza,” he said, fidgeting with Maiza’s collar.

“Another one?”

“I want to try something. Don’t worry, I’ll stop at once if you don’t like it. Is that enough warning for you?”

“…I suppose?”

And then everything—shifted. Maiza caught his breath as the world around him seemed to fade. If he made an effort, he could make the couch and the painting across the room take shape again—but it was far easier to simply focus all his attention on Ronny’s clever eyes, his warm presence, the way he relieved Maiza of his shirt.

“Ronny? What is this?”

Ronny gave a thin smile. “Just a little trick to keep your attention on me. You’ve experienced this once before, remember? When I told you how to create the elixir.”

Yes, now that Ronny said that, Maiza remembered: for just a moment all the world around him had gone black and he had tasted sand and sun on the back of his throat and then he’d been aware of new knowledge inside his mind. But he wouldn’t have been able to call the memory to mind now had Ronny not brought it up, and it seemed… unimportant.

“Do you like it?” Ronny asked plainly. His eyes never left Maiza’s, and his hands rested, motionless, at Mazia’s waistband. It all felt more real than normal, more intense, more absolute.

“It’s very strange,” Maiza confessed. “I know that there are other things that matter, but right now…”

“They don’t need to,” Ronny finished the sentence for him when he trailed off. “It’s temporary, I assure you. As soon as you want it gone, I’ll stop. If you aren’t comfortable with what we’re doing, if I move too fast for you, I’ll know at once, and I’ll stop. I know it’s a one-sided trick, but—”

“Ronny, it’s fine.”

There were other matters in the world—things he had to think about, things he had to worry about and guard against—but in this moment, he didn’t need to think about them. His friend was relieving him of that burden, if only for a little while. Maiza never would have been able to wish for something like this, but like an unintentional midday nap, the relief was hard to resist.

He reached for his friend’s face and pressed their lips together once more. The physical contact was vibrant—electric. It was hard to break the kiss. When he did, he buried his head in Ronny’s neck instead and breathed, “I trust you.”

 “I see.” There was amusement in Ronny’s voice, and embarrassment and pride, and Maiza found that he could pick out and define each emotion without effort. “I don’t know why you waste your trust on a demon, Maiza, but no matter. I’ll live up to that trust tonight, at least.”

He tugged Maiza’s undershirt out of his waistband and cupped his hands around Maiza’s sides. Maiza hissed in pleasure at the warmth of his touch and let himself be pulled closer. When one hand began to wander, it was easy to guess where it was going, but he still swallowed hard when Ronny’s fingers brushed against his groin.

“…That’s nice,” he said, oddly aware of his pulse.

“‘Nice’,” Ronny repeated after him, his touch growing a little bolder. “Now it’s your compliments that leave a little to be desired, Maiza.”

“It’s _very_ nice.” It was, in a way that stole all of Maiza’s attention and concentrated it in that one spot. He suspected that even if Ronny weren’t playing that trick with his mind, he might have had trouble thinking about anything else by now. “I can see why you hoped this might distract me.”

“Indeed. It seems to be working.”

And the look in Ronny’s eyes was irresistible then, self-satisfied and clever. Maiza wrapped his left hand around the back of Ronny’s neck and demanded another kiss. As Ronny kept working his member, he found himself moaning softly, shifting so that Ronny had unimpeded access.

Ronny broke the kiss first. “I want to do more to you, Maiza,” he said against Maiza’s jaw.

“Such as?”

And then Ronny’s hand was undoing his fly and Maiza felt his touch on bare skin. Ronny diligently coaxed him to a full erection and it was hard to keep any thought in his head now. He leaned his head back, panting.

“Ronny, should I…?”

“Do something in return? Not necessary.” And Maiza couldn’t help but believe him; the smug light in Ronny’s eyes revealed that he was enjoying this far too much to be interrupted. “Just relax, Maiza.”

“…Hah.” Maiza wasn’t sure whether that was a laugh or a gasp. His heart was racing. “Ronny, I’m not sure I’d say this is _relaxing_ me, exactly.”

“Hmph. No matter,” Ronny said with a wicked amusement in his voice, still working Maiza’s length. Maiza felt hot and vibrant, felt aware of every nook and cranny of his body. When Ronny slid off the couch and kneeled between his legs, he found himself swallowing a noise of anticipation.

“Shall I?” Ronny inquired, smirking still.

A half-hour ago, Maiza would have responded to what Ronny was implying with a baffled look.

Five minutes ago, his response might have been a hesitant, _if you really want to_.

Now, breathing fast, he found himself wrapping a hand around the back of his friend’s neck and pulling him inward. He saw Ronny’s smirk widen for a split-second—

And then he caught his breath as Ronny took him into his mouth. The feeling was hot and liquid and more intense than his hand had been, and with it, the feeling of spot-lit focus only grew. Moments later, Maiza couldn’t have even said whether he was still seated on the couch, whether they were still in his living room, whether there was anything else in the world; all he could be aware of was the feeling of Ronny’s tongue on his length, one arm curling behind him to pull him forward, the other hand creeping up his torso beneath his undershirt. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and when Ronny glanced up at him, their gazes caught each other. For a moment Ronny’s eyes were the color of the sun and in a vertiginous rush Maiza felt what was beyond this moment, not the apartment but the vast spread of the world, of the universe, of far more than he could grasp—

He tore his eyes away, breathing heavily, and his awareness focused once more on his body and what Ronny was doing to it.

Without real sound, he heard — _sorry, too much. Should I stop?_ —

A quick shake of his head, though it made him dizzy. He was close, anyway. Ronny hummed once in acknowledgement and continued to work at him, switching back to his hands only just in time for Maiza to come with a choked cry. As he tried to catch his breath, the world spun around him and then settled back into place.

He leaned back in the couch with a long sigh as Ronny cleaned him up with a handkerchief. Once he finished with that, Ronny put his shirt back on and returned to his seat on the couch. Maiza shrugged back into his own shirt, sending a bashful glance Ronny’s way.

“I don’t really know the etiquette here,” he confessed, buttoning up his shirt and then repairing his fly. “Do I thank you now? Do I offer you a drink, ask you to stay the night? –Do you sleep?” he added, considering the question for the first time as he voiced it.

“I have been known to sleep,” Ronny answered dryly, and Maiza wasn’t sure whether it was ironic understatement or a genuine indication that Ronny didn’t need to sleep on a regular basis. “And I have no interest in spending the night on your couch. But we could cuddle, if you’re so inclined.”

 _Cuddle_. Now there was a word one didn’t expect to hear from a millenniums-old demon, or from a camorrista, for that matter. And by the look on Ronny’s face, it seemed he was aware of that much and reveling in the irony. Maiza gave a pained smile in return and sighed.

“What?”

“This can’t be how ordinary lovers interact.”

Ronny shrugged. “Probably not. Does that matter to you?”

“I don’t know.” Maiza adjusted his glasses, rather unnecessarily. He wished he could feel the same unconcerned amusement that his friend was demonstrating. “I appreciated that, Ronny, but I don’t… want our friendship to change. And I don’t really know how to resume normal conversation after an experience like that.”

“Should I leave?” Ronny asked shrewdly, cutting straight to the point.

Maiza winced. “I don’t want to drive you out…”

“You’re not. I only came here to cheer you up, remember? If you need space, I’m happy to grant it.” He sighed, amusement finally slipping from his face. “I didn’t mean to make this awkward, Maiza. I’m sorry.”

“Ronny.” Maiza reached for his friend and brought their lips together one more time, just for a moment. “It’s alright. I enjoyed that. …But I have some thinking to do, so yes, please leave.”

Ronny snorted. “You’re merciless, Maiza.”

“I always have been.”

“So you have.” Ronny stood and looked down at his friend. “But no matter. Have a good night, Maiza.”

“You too.”

*

Ronny decided to actually walk back to his apartment. He, too, had a little thinking to do.

He could guess, even without needing to check, that Maiza’s mind was already back on the Phantom Father and the looming threat of Szilard. Which wasn’t unfair. The connection he’d assumed did exist, and moreover Szilard was indeed in New York. But Szilard hadn’t realized Maiza’s presence, so for Maiza to spend his time worrying was a waste.

Though Ronny had to admit it was, at least, very consistent with Maiza’s character.

The use of sex as a brief distraction had been an inspired ploy, he thought, but he’d never held much hope that it would work for long. Far more effective, and even easier, would have been to reach into Maiza’s mind and shift the former alchemist’s priorities; to de-prioritize his fear of Szilard for as long as it remained fairly irrelevant. It was a tempting prospect, one with only benefits, and done subtly enough the change might have escaped Maiza’s notice altogether.

But without permission from Maiza, it would probably have been unethical and furthermore a breach of the code Ronny had defined for himself. And there was no hope of obtaining Maiza’s permission. For two hundred years, he’d acted as though the best way to face problems was to worry about them incessantly.

Ronny failed to see how this was in any way effective—but no matter. And it would be hypocritical to dwell in worry himself, right now. So he adjusted the collar of his coat, remembered the look of desire that had stolen over his friend’s face, and headed home with a secret smile on his face.


End file.
